with as much passion as the good Popes hated Thought.  To the wickedness of the Papacy humanity owes much.  The goodness of the Papacy owes a terrible debt to humanity.  Yet, though the Vatican has kept the rhetoric of its thunders, and lost the rod of its lightning, it is better for the artist not to live with Popes.  It was a Pope who said of Cellini to a conclave of Cardinals that common laws and common authority were not made for men such as he; but it was a Pope who thrust Cellini into prison, and kept him there till he sickened with rage, and created unreal visions for himself, and saw the gilded sun enter his room, and grew so enamoured of it that he sought to escape, and crept out from tower to tower, and falling through dizzy air at dawn, maimed himself, and was by a vine-dresser covered with vine leaves, and carried in a cart to one who, loving beautiful things, had care of him.  There is danger in Popes.  And as for the People, what of them and their authority?  Perhaps of them and their authority one has spoken enough.  Their authority is a thing blind, deaf, hideous, grotesque, tragic, amusing, serious, and obscene.  It is impossible for the artist to live with the People.  All despots bribe.  The people bribe and brutalise.  Who told them to exercise authority?  They were made to live, to listen, and to love.  Someone has done them a great wrong.  They have marred themselves by imitation of their inferiors.  They have taken the sceptre of the Prince.  How should they use it?  They have taken the triple tiara of the Pope.  How should they carry its burden?  They are as a clown whose heart is broken.  They are as a priest whose soul is not yet born.  Let all who love Beauty pity them.  Though they themselves love not Beauty, yet let them pity themselves.  Who taught them the trick of tyranny?